


Soul

by hheroes



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Non-Linear Narrative, sort of established relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hheroes/pseuds/hheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everything that has a beginning has an end,” Ahsoka says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A long time ago, Ahsoka recalls being happy. Not safe, nor stable-but happy, if in brief bouts. She runs herself ragged on the front lines and returns to the Temple in high spirits because-

" _Barriss_!"

Barriss' eyes flick up from the data pad she's hunched over, and upon seeing Ahsoka, they light up and she scrambles to her feet. "Ahsoka!" she says, her voice equal parts relief and excitement.

Distantly, Ahsoka's aware that Master Jocasta will have her head for both running _and_ screaming in the Archives. But for the time being, she dedicates her concentration to getting to Barriss as _quickly_ as possible.

The result is more of a collision than a hug, but it's satisfying nonetheless.

Barriss' chair topples, and the two girls follow, crashing to the ground in a tangle of arms and shrieking laughter-they're being an awful nuisance, but Ahsoka can't find it in herself to care. She hugs Barriss as close as she can, tightly, then lets go and pulls away grinning. "I thought I would never see you again!"

"Ahsoka," Barriss says.

"We just got back from Mandalore today - could've used the back up, by the way- and Obi-Wan told me you and Master Luminara disappeared on Jakku and I - I really thought you wouldn't be here, Barriss. I thought I was going to come home and be -"

" _Ahsoka_ ," Barriss says again, more urgently this time. Ahsoka shuts up, if only because a handful of knights and masters are staring at them with the utmost disapproval. And then she registers the faint flush to Barriss cheeks and the fact that she's straddling her friend's hips in the middle of the Archives all at once.

"Oops," she says, quick to get back on her feet. She helps Barriss up as well, and they both feign sheepishness as they pick up the fallen chair. They maintain only quiet whispers and smiles until they're a safe distance from the library. Ahsoka swings them into a corner, away from prying eyes, has to try with all her heart not to hug her again.

She settles for beaming at Barriss hard enough to hurt her cheeks. "You're alive!"

Barriss gives her a tired smile. "I'm alive," she agrees. "And so are you."

"Barriss, I was told you were _gone_. You _disappeared_." Ahsoka can't muster up any actual anger, but she crosses her arms against her chest and tries to fake it anyway.

The look Barriss gives her must mean she's fairly convincing. "Our ship was lost in the sand dunes," she explains, as if trying to mollify Ahsoka's anger. "It took us a few days to even locate civilians, and another week to find any form of communications. Otherwise we would've alerted the Council of our whereabouts immediately."

Ahsoka sags her arms against her sides, stepping closer to Barriss involuntarily. "Not to imply that I take precedent over the Council, but-"

"I would've contacted you," Barriss says. "Honestly."

"I know, I know - I just, I'm just glad you're alive."

The air shifts, as if the Force itself is waiting on bated breath for how the rest of their reunion will play out-Barriss' eyes widen as she becomes of aware Ahsoka slowly invading her space. And slowly, her smile grows, as her gaze falls to Ahsoka's lips.

"I feel the same," and her voice is soft, quiet, _wonderful_ as Ahsoka closes the distance between them.

There is no fear and there is no sadness when they kiss; only joy, muffled by the press of their lips.

Technically, there's no rules against padawans finding companionship in one another; if anything, it's more acceptable for them to keep their relations within the Order, to avoid any outside temptations of attachment. But even still, they must take care to not be caught.

Half the Order is already wary of Anakin's well-known tendency to get emotional-they talk as if he's never adhered to warnings against attachments. Ahsoka knows personally-better than anyone, except maybe Obi-Wan and Yoda-of her master's struggles, and she finds herself irate when fellow Jedi overlook how he's overcome even the strongest of his desires. He isn't by any means perfect, but it's not like he isn't _trying._

The only thing that upsets her even more is when they think he's rubbed his shortcomings off onto _her_.

Anakin is many things, but he is _not_ , nor will he ever be a terrible teacher. Ahsoka isn't proof of his inabilities, nor is she a product of them.

The fact that she winds up with Barriss half-dressed in her quarters doesn't disprove that.

Nothing compares to the way she feels about Barriss, and she has to be honest, the threat of attachment has reared its ugly head more than once. But Ahsoka trusts herself to stay above it. She trusts Barriss to maintain detachment. She trusts that this can end whenever they decide, and the void she feels whenever they're apart will do itself away with time.

" _Barriss-_ " she gasps, unable to actually for a complete thought. Barriss feels like - like her own heartbeat, strong and steady and full of life.

She's hyper aware of Barriss' skin, and her discarded hood and shirt laying somewhere out of her reach, and her own tunic being unzipped down the back and skewed haphazardly on her shoulders. Barriss seems determined to push the thing off entirely, and Ahsoka would be happy to help her, as long as she never had to pull away from her lips.

At some point, Barriss moves to kiss her neck, and Ahsoka shudders, perfectly content with the turn of events and happy to let them continue.

Officially, they don't get caught; no one barges through the door and forces them apart. But three days later, Anakin tells Ahsoka they're going to Cato Neimoidia, and it feels like some sort of punishment.

She tries to keep herself controlled within the Force, but she can't contain the spike of irritation and surprise that comes as she receives the news. "What? But we just got back!"

Anakin gives her a look from the corner of his eye, feeling her outburst in the Force and disapproving of it without even uttering a word. "I know," he says. "But the war is escalating, and we don't have any troops to spare. Hopefully, it'll be a shorter mission than Mandalore."

She winces at the recollection-the Siege of Mandalore had been long, agonizing weeks of push and pull between Republic forces and Separatist and Death Watch retaliation. The chaos that sparked from the death of the duchess, as well as Darth Maul's hand in unleashing madness had been exhausting in and of itself. Not mention she was still recovering from a blaster shot that had caught her mid-thigh though, to be fair, she had deliberately taken the shot to keep it from blindsiding a clone trooper, but _still._

"But we _just_ came home," she says again, more petulantly than she initially intended.

Anakin's face softens; he puts a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look up to meet his eyes. "I understand your frustration. But you know the nature of this war, Ahsoka."

"We've been at war for over a year and we've never been deployed within _days_ of returning-"

"Ahsoka," he says, his voice stern, and she falls into an unhappy silence.

She takes a deep breath, centering herself before she tries again. "There's no way you're okay with this, Master."

"I'm not happy," he clarifies. "But things could be worse. Our options were to either go together to Cato Neiomoidia, or be split up and sent to opposite ends of the Outer Rim."

Ahsoka physically recoils at the idea of being separated from her master, and he can't help but snort at her reaction.

"My thoughts exactly. I figured I chose the lesser of two evils."

She can't argue with that-but still. "It's not _fair_. I just wanted to-" _Spend some more time with Barriss_. She groans quietly, casting her gaze to the ground. "Ugh, nevermind."

"Ahsoka…"

"It's nothing, Master. Really."

Anakin regards with an unreadable expression. "If there's something you want to tell me, now is the time."

Confused by his response, she looks up at him again, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember what we discussed on Onderon? About staying focused?"

Ahsoka flushes completely at that memory-nothing was quite as sobering as having Anakin notice her lack of _subtlety_ when it came to her feelings about Lux Bonteri. The whole experience still sits uneasily within her, especially when she remembers the look on Steela's face as she-

"Yes," she says quickly, partially scowling down at her toes.

"Are you sure?"

"Could you stop being cryptic, please?" she asks irritably. "That's more of Master Obi-Wan's thing-and even then, I only know what he's talking about maybe half the time."

Anakin laughs faintly. "Ahsoka, you won't be the first padawan to have a crush on a companion, nor will you be the last. I know you're upset that you have to leave Padawan Offee so soon, but you have to remember that this war takes priority over everything else."

If she wasn't blushing before, she is now; Anakin isn't malicious or teasing but she's embarrassed that he's even saying anything at all. She _knows_ she isn't the most secretive person around, but she and Barriss were so _careful-_

"So this _is_ a punishment," she mutters, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"No," Anakin says quickly, then pauses to reconsider. "At least, not one from me."

There's nothing more frustrating than the Council intervening in her personal affairs-Ahsoka's not a _child,_ she's not some _youngling_ who can't keep her emotions in check. She's reminded of the rumors that ' _Skywalker can't keep himself in check, let alone his padawan_ ' and the only thing she hates more than being treated like a child is being the topic of Temple gossip.

"We didn't even-we just- it's not like it's _forbidden_!" she practically hisses through clenched teeth.

"I know," says Anakin. "But it's better to err on the side of caution."

"You don't think I can avoid attachment?" Her voice is just this side of shrill.

"I don't think you can avoid _Barriss_ , if left to your own will," he says honestly. "That's not meant to be insulting-you're drawn to her, I get it. We're Jedi, but that doesn't mean we're unfeeling."

He's so genuine in his concern for her, she can't find it in herself to be mad-she's still somewhat embarrassed, turning her head away from him. She sighs. "I just want...some more time with her. That's all."

Anakin checks his wrist chrono. "We don't ship out for at least another few hours," he says, giving her a wide-eyed innocent look. "If you happened to disappear until the briefing, I don't think anyone would notice."

She just stares at him.

" _I_ certainly wouldn't notice," he adds, grinning. "I trust my padawan to be on time to when she's needed. What she does in her spare time is up to her, as long as she does the right thing even when I'm not there."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Ahsoka says with a roll of her eyes, but she's nearly bouncing on her toes

His shortcomings might be the talk of the Temple, but when Ahsoka looks at Anakin Skywalker, all she sees is a man who's forged himself out of _trust_. It's no small thing, the grace he's giving her. Because he trusts that she won't take advantage of him; because he trusts that she can handle some things without holding her hand through it.

It's a little terrifying, to be honest. Rex told her that Anakin had nearly gone on a rampage during her time as a Trandoshan kidnappee; and here he is now, entrusting her to overcome one of the greatest struggles a Jedi will ever face without breathing down her neck.

"I- _-thank you_ , Master," she says, the sincerity of it surprising even herself.

"Don't be late," he says firmly. He's smiling in that signature style of his. She bows and runs off, and he calls to her, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"That's a short list!" she calls back, and disappears in search for Barriss.

 

\-----

 

She finds Barriss in the courtyard, meditating (because she's an infinitely better padawan than Ahsoka could ever dream of being) and all but jumps into her lap to alert of her presence. The fact that they're out in the open, where anyone can see them, makes it easier to reel herself in-but just barely.

"Barriss," she says, dropping beside her.

Barriss barely opens one eye to look at her. "Can this wait?"

"I'm leaving for Cato Neimoidia in a few hours," Ahsoka says dryly, "so no, it really can't."

Both Barriss' eyes fly open; her concentration is fully on Ahsoka as her eyebrows knit together in the middle of her forehead. "But you just got back!"

"I know, I said the same thing."

"That's ridiculous. You've barely had time to recuperate," Barriss says with an indignant sniff.

"It's okay," Ahsoka lies rather boldly. "I slept almost all of yesterday; it was very relaxing. And the blaster shot I got on Mandalore is fully healed."

She lifts her tunic to prove it-entirely unaware of the possible implications of the gesture until Barriss' face goes a neat shade of plum. Despite the hazy blush, she leans to look at it. "It'll leave a permanent scar," she says with a purse of her lips.

"Yeah-the healers said I didn't get bacta on it in time. I told them it was kind of hard to when I was on the ground in the middle of a Mandalorian clusterfuck, but I think they just thought I was making excuses."

Barriss quirks an eyebrow at her. "It's fully healed?"

"Yeah- _ow!"_

Satisfied that her assumption was correct, Barriss shrugs by way of apology for jabbing her thumb directly onto the wound.

"Okay, fine," Ahsoka relents. "It's _almost_ fully healed. Close enough."

"This is just proof that you shouldn't be going _anywhere._ And knowing Master Skywalker, I'm sure he's harboring injuries just as bad or even worse. The Council must be desperate if they're already deploying you again."

"Something like that," Ahsoka says dismissively, instead of telling Barriss it may or may not be a way to separate them. "If you really want to go back to meditating, you can, but I was hoping we could - you know, make the most of our time together. I don't know when we'll have the opportunity again."

Barriss smiles wryly, and for a moment, Ahsoka can forget how tired she seems. "What did you have in mind?"

"Dinner? I know a diner we could go to. No one will recognize us."

"Sounds like a plan."

 

 

The diner is a little busier than Ahsoka had anticipated, leaving her and Barriss ample time for conversation while their food is being prepared. Barriss seems distracted, and not just by Ahsoka's flirting. She'd typically at least flirt back, almost as brazen as Ahsoka herself, but today she's withdrawn, her features dark and downcast.

"Do you think this war will have an end?" she asks, staring blankly at the menu, despite having already ordered.

It's a conversation they've had before, though not verbatim. And before, it was Ahsoka asking ' _when do you think this war will end?'_ and Barriss reassuring her to the best of her ability. "Everything that has a beginning has an end," Ahsoka says. "We know how it started, but just because we don't know how it'll end doesn't mean that it won't."

Barriss looks up at her then, her eyes searching every inch of Ahsoka's face. The corners of her lips twitch, but never give to a full smile. "Is it that simple to you? You're so clear-cut."

"I've been told it's one of my many charming qualities," Ahsoka grins back.

Barriss seems to register the flirtation, but doesn't respond in kind. She sighs, body sagging on the exhale. "I wish it were the same for me. I find it particularly hard to grasp that there were padawans who didn't grow up in battle. It's as if I can't separate the Jedi from the war anymore."

"We're Jedi before we're soldiers," Ahsoka reminds her gently. "Our affiliation with the Republic isn't what defines us."

"Isn't it though?" Barriss splays her hands outwards, her voice rising in pitch and bemusement. "Our knights aren't just Jedi Knights anymore, they're Jedi Knights _of the Republic._ You and I are commanders as much as we are padawan learners, if not more. And we don't even have the worst of it, Ahsoka-there are younglings growing up in the midst of all this. Kids no more than twelve already look haunted by war, and that's not even considering the ones that are too young but are chosen as padawans anyway because of how this war is _decimating_ our numbers."

She sounds a little wild, as if she's been bottling all this up for quite some time, and this is her only chance to let loose-as much and as fast as possible. Ahsoka makes as if to interrupt, but Barriss continues into another heated tirade before she has the chance.

"Caleb Dume was chosen to be a padawan today. He turned twelve last _week_."

"Barriss-"

"He's so small, Ahsoka! He's shorter than his own saber blade! And Master Billaba of all people sees it fit to throw him into battle-Master Luminara speaks of it as if it's a rite of passage." She turns watery eyes to meet Ahsoka's, and her voice breaks, shatters into a thousand pieces, "Since when is _war_ used to measure the worth of our lives?"

"It's not!" Ahsoka cuts in, a bit too loudly. Diner-goers all around give them wary looks. Around them, the Force buzzes as the tension peaks-both she and Barriss locked in a battle of beliefs.

She imagines Anakin's voice, _Stay focused, Ahsoka_ , and finds her center.

"We _aren't_ defined by the war," she declares.

"Oh, _Ahsoka_ ," Barriss says, her voice suddenly sharp and penetrating; so much so that Ahsoka finds her gaze piercing and hard to look at. "Do you really believe that?"

"I believe that this can't go on forever," Ahsoka says firmly. "And that we're doing the right thing. And if we succeed now, no generation after us will have to know war as intimately as we do."

Barriss stares at her for a long while. Slowly, the intensity of her gaze begins to wear off, and eventually her familiar, wry smile returns. It's not insincere, but it's certainly strained. At least she's trying. "Speaking of intimacy…"

Ahsoka laughs a little too loudly-but she's relieved that Barriss is acting like herself again. Something about her attitude strikes Ahsoka as a little too _intense_ to be just desperation; it feels... _wrong_ , it feels _dark_. She's all too eager to keep Barriss from reaching that point again, and even happier to move past any talk of war. "You're insatiable," she teases.

"And yourself?"

"Woefully unsatisfied," Ahsoka responds. "But there's still time to fix that."

For dinner, Ahsoka has a lovely meat dish that's prepared on an open flame; for dessert, she bites and licks at the skin of Barriss' neck, and imagines a world in which no war forces them apart.


	2. Chapter 2

The old blaster wound aches from time to time, though Ahsoka suspects the Force has something to do with it as opposed to age.

The Force, she’s learned, is a finicky thing that does at it pleases and pays no mind to the hearts and souls of whoever possess it. Countless times, Ahsoka’s wanted nothing more than to completely _revoke_ the damn thing and dust her hands of its possession, but of course she can’t do that because she is one of the last living faces of Force-sensitives who hasn’t been corrupted by Emperor fucking Palpatine and the tendrils of his influence.

Her thigh groans with every step she takes, and she might accidentally let the pain register in her expression--either that or Rex is just really adept at reading her. Either way, he sends a smirk her way. “Old age finally getting to you?”

“Something like that,” she says, trying not to wince as she eases herself into a seat.

The pain isn’t this bad unless something awful is in the works, something the Force thinks needs her immediate attention. Last time, her thigh ached for three days straight, and on the last day Hera and her crew nearly died at the hands of a fucking Sith Lord. She’s not exactly keen on testing it; she’ll just accept whatever it is, exactly.

“You look tired.”

She regards Rex through half-lidded eyes. The corners of her lips quirk up involuntarily; she can’t help herself from teasing back, “ _You_ look unshaved.”

“Low blow, Commander.” He chuckles, but she can see him stroke his full, bushy beard out of the corner of her eye.

Sometimes her very soul aches when she sees Rex--after spending the better part of a decade in complete radio silence, she thought he, much like everyone she had ever loved, was dead. Though, considering the course of her life’s events, dying wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to someone she loved.

Speaking of terrible things…

She slaps at her thigh, just avoiding hitting the old scar directly. “Siege of Mandalore,” she says by way of explanation. “It was a lucky shot. Do you remember?”

He falls into a seat beside her and offers her a hot cup of caf, which she accepts but has no intentions of drinking. “I remember a certain commander _jumping_ in front of a blaster bolt actually. Funny.”

“I didn’t jump.”

“You backflipped,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Same thing.”

Ahsoka grins--though it appears more like a grimace, the tips of her fangs brushing against her lip. “I limped for a day and a half. If it had hit its intended target, we would’ve lost Fives in the middle of a shitstorm. He’s half the reason we got out of that alive.”

“And I’m assuming you’re the other half?”

She laughs, and so does he, and for a moment things don’t seem unbearable. It dawns on her their sharing jokes about a fallen friend from a war that had been part of an elaborate Sith plot and she sobers up fairly quickly.

“I didn’t think Jedi dealt with the same creaks and aches that we mere men deal with,” Rex says, his tone light, as if sensing her sudden tension.

Ahsoka gives him a very pointed look. “I’m not a Jedi,” she says, and every time those words leave her lips she feels another part of her soul chisel away. Fourteen years and still no _peace_ , no reconciliation with the decision she made as a teenager. For every part of her that _knows_ she did the right thing, there’s still a portion of her brain that drives Anakin’s broken face into her vulnerable conscience like a knife.

Rex’s expression has turned to one akin to a man who's walked unsuspectingly into a sarlacc pit. “Sorry. I forget, sometimes.” He strokes at his beard, the way Obi-Wan used to; she wonders how many other people that particular habit rubbed off onto. “I’m no Force expert, believe it or not, but I’ve met my fair share of them and--you still carry yourself like a Jedi.”

“What do you mean--” she starts, and then realizes she actually doesn’t want to know. Her thigh aches harshly, and she drops her head back and groans, possibly exaggerating how much pain she’s in but also uncaring. “Not now, Rex. Let’s not get into that.” She pauses, then adds a soft, “Please.”

He nods, quick to follow her lead. “We really should talk sometime. Preferably soon.”

 _"You_ want to talk? Do you know that half your vocabulary is just differently-pitched grunts and sour expressions?” She snorts. “You know, we used to put bets on how many words you actually spoke in a day. _Jesse_ of all people nearly robbed me blind.”

He’s giving her a special flavor of sour-faced look, the kind she used to work out of him when she was fourteen and arguably more of an adrenaline junkie than Anakin had been.

“I’m serious,” she tells him. “As death itself.”

Rex’s face changes into something a little more pained. “I hate that you joke about death so often.”

“It’s kind of lost it’s luster, if I’m honest,” she replies lightly.

He simply scoffs, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he gestures at her now lukewarm caf, frowning yet again. “Drink that. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat once since I’ve been aboard this ship.”

“Not hungry,” she deflects easily, and instead stands to her feet, wincing as her thigh protests the movement. She slides the cup to him, along with a wink just to see him grumble about it. “Besides, I’m sure the crew’s up by now, which means it’s time for a debriefing. I was up late talking strategy with Sato--we think we’ve found someone who can at least give us some legal protection in the Senate while we look for a new base.”

“Legal protection,” Rex echoes, sipping at the caf. He narrows his eyes. “Lawyer or politician?”

“He’s a pledged rebel who happens to be running a planetary government.”

Rex grunts into his cup. “Politician then.”

“He’s an _ally_ , Rex.” She makes to leave, then adds, “War room in ten. Don’t be late.”

He raises his caf at her--a toast, of sorts--and she leaves the cafeteria feeling somewhat better.

She still can’t tell anyone about her aching leg, and what that means for the future--at best, she’ll just find time to meditate later and hope for the best. Meditation, at least, is a Jedi-tradition she hasn’t been able to shake. It helps more than it hurts, and she doesn’t see any harm done from it.

By the time she reaches the war room, she’s able to successfully ignore the pain, pushing it aside to deal with later. Sato is there, grim-faced as ever, but he does look at least vaguely happy to see her.

“We received a message from the contact this morning,” he says by way of greeting--which is just fine to Ahsoka, she’s more than ready for some good news. “You’ve been given clearance to land on Onderon.”

“Excellent,” Ahsoka says. “How big of a team do I get?”

“Four, including yourself. Feel free to use one of the shuttles, but I presume you’ll find it more convenient to take Captain Syndulla and the Ghost.”

She spares him a tight smile. “Am I getting that predictable, Commander?”

“Not you,” he says earnestly, “but I’ve come to expect Syndulla’s crew to get involved in everything, whether or not I want them to.”

Her smile relaxes into something more real, and he grins faintly in return. Anyone else might’ve been lost at the thought of Sato making a joke, but Ahsoka’s known him long enough that she understands his sense of humor.

Rex comes in a few moments later, Ezra in tow, and he’s got a fond look on his face as he listens to Ezra talk his ear off. It’s nostalgic, in a way. Ahsoka wonders if this is how she looked standing side by side with Rex back when she was Ezra’s age. 

Of course, there was a war back then, and she’d been placed in a position of command that she arguably ought not have been, and both she and Rex weren’t quite so injured by time itself and desperate to hide it.

She has to force herself not to grimace; to maintain her steely, cool demeanor, especially for Ezra’s sake. “Hello, Ezra,” she says, quirking her lips up in a half-smile.

He brightens when he sees her, though shyly tries to keep himself reserved. “Hi, Ahsoka. What do you have for us today?”

He looks alert and ready--and excited, bursting with anticipation within the Force.The way he’s slipped into the role of a Padawan amazes her. He wears it well.

“You’ll see,” she promises. “Where’s the rest of the Ghost crew?”

The entry door slid open, and the rest of the crew piled in, fresh-faced save for Zeb, but Ahsoka is learning to recognize his ever-present scowl typically didn’t change even if he was in a good mood. Hera smiles lightly, “You called?”

“Almost late, Hera,” she scolds jokingly. “Don’t get reckless on me.”

“That’s his job,” Hera responds, jabbing a thumb in Kanan’s direction. He looks vaguely annoyed, but mollified by Ashoka’s presence and Hera’s teasing. He actually manages to almost smile, which is a pretty big step for him.

Not that Ahsoka blames him. He was just a kid when he witnessed the murder of the Jedi and the betrayal of the military--he’s understandably unfriendly to organized rebellion. But he could at least try to give Rex the respect he deserves, which Ahsoka will probably have to discuss with him at a later time.

“There’s no room for error on this mission,” Sato interjects. “Onderon’s a relatively peaceful planet, despite the Imperial presence, and I would like to _keep_ it that way.”

“We’re going to Onderon?” Ezra asks.

“We have a rebel contact there who’s involved with the government,” Ahsoka explains. “We’re hoping to be able to use Onderon as a safe place, perhaps even a small base. They have a unique relationship with the Empire; like Sato said, there’s still an Imperial presence, but the planet itself has a standing monarchy and parliament that remains in charge. At least, nominally.”

Kanan furrows his brow. “The Empire isn’t usually that...lenient.”

“Onderon was a former member of the Confederation, during the clone wars. There was an attempt to turn to the Republic, but it ultimately failed and they remained a part of the Confederacy.”

“So they get special privileges?”

Ahsoka pauses, then nods. “Something like that.”

“So we’re just going down there to...talk?” Sabine asks.

“Arrange deals mostly, yes,” Ahsoka says, sharing a look with Sato. “You have to understand, Onderon is surprisingly peaceful, given their history, and we must not corrupt that.”

“I could go for a peace mission,” Hera comments. “Force knows we don’t get enough of them.”

“Good.” Ahsoka nods at her. “We have our pilot and our ship.”

Sato clears his throat. “We’ve gotten officially clearance to send a team of emissaries, but only _four_ of you can go. Our cover story doesn’t account for a group any bigger than that.”

“I’m going,” Kanan says without hesitation. Hera fixes him a look that he staunchly ignores; Ahsoka finds that interesting, and judging from their expressions, so does the rest of the Ghost crew.

“Ahsoka’s taking the lead on this mission,” says Rex, “so who’s the fourth?”

His face is unreadable to the untrained eye, but Ahsoka sees the worry lines and how deep his frown is. “Are you volunteering, Rex?”

He makes as if to say something, but Ezra intervenes first, “I’ll go! I mean, I never get to go on peace missions, let alone with _Ahsoka_ , so this will be a good learning experience for me. Right? Please?”

It’s fine by Ahsoka--she knows Rex wants to accompany her, with the way he’s worrying over her this morning--but she doubts Kanan will bite. As she suspects, he doesn’t seem convinced. “You need to stay _here_ , Ezra. The fleet needs at least one Jedi...just in case.”

Ezra deflates--the typical Padawan, so eager to learn and so often shut down. She chews her lip for a moment, then catches Rex’s eye. He’s watching her, waiting on her move, shrugging as if to say, _I’ll support whatever you decide. I just won’t be happy about it._

She remembers being a padawan; carrying all that excitement and overzealousness to help her cause. Of course, the cause she’d been fighting for back then turned out to be a corrupted mess--but Ezra reminds her of herself nonetheless. He’s an all-or-nothing kind of kid, the way Ahsoka herself had been. Either she fought with all of heart, or she didn’t fight at all. And Ezra doesn’t even want to fight, this time around, he just wants to _learn_ , and who is she to deny him of that?

“Ezra should come with us,” Ahsoka decides, turning to Kanan. “The experience will be good for him. Besides, the three of us have a much better chance of keeping him out of trouble.”

They’ve made some type of agreement that Ezra’s teaching relies primarily on Kanan, given that she’s not a Jedi and therefore disqualified from having a Padawan. But formal rules are lost in the absence of an organization, so she still plays a part in teaching him. And Kanan does trust her, which she’s learned since she woke up half in his arms after passing out the first time she’d asked him to help her connect with the Sith lord back when….

The point is, there’s enough trust between them that Kanan doesn’t immediately disregard her. He shifts on his feet, looking uncertain. “You sure?” he asks her.

She nods without hesitation 

The last time she let Ezra out of her sight on a mission, he was nearly killed by a fucking _Sith Lord_. This kid is invaluable --  not just to the rebellion, but to Hera and Kanan and everyone aboard this ship, and she’ll be damned if she let’s another hopeful flame get snuffed by the dark side. Not that Kanan needs to know any of this, but as long as he can feel her conviction within the Force, she can get him on board.

Kanan sighs. “Gear up, kid. You’re with us on this one. Sabine, Zeb, just...try not to blow anything up. And keep on standby in case we need backup.”

Ezra beams up at him, and then at Ahsoka. She winks and sends a discreet thumbs up his way.

“This is a _peace mission_ ,” Sato says to Kanan, exasperated. “What will you need backup for?”

“Sir, with all due respect, trouble finds us more often than we’d like. Peace mission or not.” Hera looks vaguely abashed by the admission, but mostly just amused.

“I might ride with Phoenix squad today,” Sabine says. “They’re short a pilot, and--"

“No,” says Hera in a no-nonsense voice.

“Come on! It’s a routine mission--in and out, done deal. I probably won’t even shoot anyone!”

Sato looks entirely disbelieving, but Ahsoka convinces him to approve it. “At the worst, she’ll be ready to jump to us in case we need coverfire during our exit.”

He gives her a look, no doubt questioning her desire for firepower for a _peace_ mission, and she just shrugs in reply. “Contingencies never hurt anyone.”

“Fine,” he says. He sounds a few moments away from throwing up his hands in frustration. “Sabine, you’re cleared. Zeb? Any input as to what _you_ should be doing for the day?”

He blinks at the sudden attention and the crisp, brusqueness of Sato’s tone. “Uh... Dish duty?”

“He’ll stay on standby with me, sir,” Rex jumps in quickly. “We’ll stay live on comms all day. Do what we can from here.”

Count on Rex to resolve an authority problem. Sato looks significantly less murderous and nods at him. “Tano will brief you three on the details of our contact. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Ahsoka’s team--Hera, Kanan, and Ezra--look at her expectantly. She gives Rex one final look as he shuffles out alongside Zeb, and winks at him again, to which he responds with an affectionate grin.

Meanwhile, her thigh starts to throb again, and Ahsoka wonders what, exactly, awaits them on Onderon.

 

* * *

 

“The rebels are en route to Onderon,” says the calm, clinical voice of the commanding High Inquisitor. Her voice is icy, _unfeeling_ and and touchable, not betraying any emotion at all over the discovery.

She nods once, clipped, curt movements. Her body moves in fits and starts now, in a way it never did before, likely because she never let herself get to that point. “And what am I to do?”

“Intercept them. Where there are rebels, there are Jedi -- and where there are Jedi, there is _us_.” The High Inquisitor hands her a helmet, which she tucks beneath her arm, and a lightsaber she hooks onto the belt around on her waist. “Leave the boy alive, kill the rest.”

She nods again.

“Do _not_ underestimate them, Sister,” the High Inquisitor instructs, tone icy once again. “These rebels have slipped from our grasp time and time again.”

“I won’t fail.” Her tone betrays just how impatient she’s getting, how desperate she is to feel her lightsaber in her palm again.

Shifting the helmet into her hands, the Sister yanks it onto her head, relishing the feel of it and the way it encloses around her. She’s partially aware this is a test -- yet _another_ one of many -- because to this day, the Inquisition doesn’t know what to do with her, doesn’t know if she can be trusted to leave their backs turned to her without earning a lightsaber through the heart for their troubles. To a degree, she understands their uncertainty, but she’s also given up everything she had for this.

(It’s quite the list of sacrifices.)

But the past is the past, and this isn’t the end of her testing, but rather, another beginning.

A million years ago, during a different time, in what feels like a different _life_ , someone had told her that everything with a beginning has an end. And she is more than ready to play her part in ensuring that the rebels will finally meet their end.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a doozy  
> this coincides with the Sabotage Arc at the end of season 5, though it deviates from canon a bit

Things move pretty quickly once they’re called home from Cato Neimodia.

Ahsoka, for one, feels numb the whole time -- throughout the Temple there’s the lingering feeling of death, much like the blanket feeling that encompasses the frontlines but _worse_ somehow. There’s mostly innocent blood spilled here, in the damn _Temple itself_ , and the mourning from thousands of Force-users makes it echo throughout her whole body.

Anakin must feel it too, because his face is twisted oddly during the funeral-slash-memorial ceremony. He looks burdened by it all, in a way that no one else is. As if he alone is experiencing the whole thing much more acutely than anyone else.

Given what she’s been told of Anakin’s abilities in the Force (and from what she’s seen herself) Ahsoka wouldn’t be surprised. Her master is great, but with that massive power comes more pain.

The ceremony is filled with Jedi and military personnel alike. Barriss is there; Ahsoka has been home for a total of 5 hours, from her and Anakin’s ship, to the Council Room, to the funeral, with no time in between for leisure. Even with the time constraints, if the situation wasn’t so dire, she would’ve _made_ time to contact Barriss and see how she’s holding up. There was a lot of medical staff taken in the bombings, people Barriss is sure to have known.

(Tarkin, the skeevy creep, entraps Anakin in conversation but Ahsoka can’t stand to be in his presence for longer than a few moments and slips away as soon as she can. Not quickly enough though; he still manages to hold her gaze and insist, “You are _not_ soldiers,” and “Perhaps you Jedi should stay _out_ of this.” Ahsoka _really_ can’t stand that guy.)

She finds Barriss, who looks...haggard. More so than when Ahsoka left, almost two weeks ago. Her friend looks nearly as burdened as Anakin does, her gaze mostly kept downcast and her gait stunted, hesitant, and jerky. If Ahsoka could just _hold_ her, kiss away the pain, make her forget all these terrible things.

“Barriss!”

There’s no relief in her expression when she looks up to catch Ahsoka’s eye. There’s only….the same numbness Ahsoka feels. “Ahsoka,” she says, voice cracking. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to return the sentiment, maybe whisk her away into a more private location, but Anakin intercepts them. He doesn’t muscle his way between them, but he acts like a firm divider, set between Ahsoka and Barriss.

(If Barriss notices, she doesn’t make any indication of it.)

“We need to continue our investigation,” Anakin says lowly. He spares a glance at Barriss, seeming to register the blank look in her eyes. “Sorry, Padawan Offee, I know you’d like to catch up with Ahsoka, but we really need to get moving.”

Ahsoka’s anger sparks a little, before she can control it. Anakin _knows_ what he’s doing by coming between them -- he has to know, because he was the one who had said that he _wouldn’t_ do such a thing.

Barriss blinks at him blearily. “I understand.” She looks past him -- or rather, _through_ him -- at Ahsoka, with watery eyes. “We’ll -- I’ll see you...sometime, then, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka almost tells Anakin to fuck off, but she can’t imagine that ending well, so she just gives Barriss a stiff goodbye and promises to call her soon. Anakin wastes no time in whisking her away after that, his hand on her shoulder heavy and warm (not his synthetic limb, then) as if he expects her to explode at any moment.

Well, he’s not wrong.

“What was _that_?” Ahsoka hisses as they step into an elevator, thankfully alone. As Anakin steps forward to press their floor, she presses the button to keep the doors closed so no one can interrupt.

“It was me protecting you,” he says.

“Protecting me! _Protecting_ me? From _what?_ Two weeks ago you told me you _trusted_ me to handle things on my own, and now you’re trying to _protect me--_ ”

“I do trust you!” he cuts in, expressing his sincerity with a wave of his hands. “Ahsoka this -- this isn’t about trust, it’s--”

“No, if you trusted me you wouldn’t strongarm me away from Barriss. I haven’t seen her in weeks and now we’re facing one of the worst tragedies to ever hit the Temple directly and you won’t even let me comfort her?”

“I’m not banning you from comforting her,” Anakin snaps. His shoulders are hunched, in that way he gets when he’s agitated and toeing the edge. “Ahsoka, we were in the presence of half the Council who _don’t_ believe in you like I do. They’ve already gotten on to me about you and the last thing I want is for them to make up any reason to intervene directly. And, let’s face it, you’re not exactly _subtle_ when you’re around Barriss.”

There’s a lot of things she could say to that, but what comes out of her mouth is, “I can be subtle!”

He smirks, raising his hands in mock defeat. “Sure you can, Snips.”

“ _Master_ ,” she says through clenched teeth, “you don’t need to _\--_ ”

“Yes, I do. Listen, Ahsoka, the Council is on edge right now. They’re already keeping an eye on you and Barriss, all I’m saying is that you need a little extra help to keep them from forcing their way into the situation.”

She’s getting a little sick of arguing in a big circle, so instead she shifts the brunt of anger elsewhere. “Why’re they so focused on me and Barriss anyway?”

“Oh.” Anakin blinks and rubs the back of his neck. “They, um, want to Knight her.”

A thousand things comes to her head all at once. She’s not quite sure where her emotions lie, and all that comes out of her mouth, squeezed out to fill the stunned silence is: “How soon?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin admits. “Before all of this, I would’ve said within the week. But things are going to be hectic for a while, so I think they’ll have to postpone.”

“How do you know this?” Ahsoka knows her master--in the back of his mind, there’s a small piece of him that longs for a council seat. But he doesn't actually have that seat yet so he shouldn't have privy to this many Council discussions, unless--

“I probably shouldn’t say,” he says.

“So Obi-Wan, then?”

He pauses, the edges of his mouth turning upwards. “Mums the word, Snips. Sorry.”

The softness that returns to his face mollifies her briefly, as does her astonishment. Knight Barriss? She’s happy--of _course_ he’s happy--but she’s immediately worried for her. Barriss deserves a lot of things in this world, up to and including eternal happiness, but Ahsoka’s not sure knighting her is going to grant her any of those things. It might...just makes things worse.

She doesn’t say any of this, and hopes her face isn’t betraying her inner turmoil. “...how am I supposed to keep this a secret?” she asks instead. “You said it yourself--I can’t be subtle around her.”

“Prove me wrong,” Anakin says without hesitation. He places a hand on her shoulder; when she takes the hint and looks up to meet his eyes, he’s wearing a mixed expression. “Ahsoka, you understand the gravity of this information, right? I’m not asking you to try; I’m _telling_ you that you must prove to us both that you can handle this responsibility.”

 _Prove him wrong_.

Nodding, she straightens her back and twists her face into something serious and solemn and unlike herself. “I can do that.”

“Good.”

 

+

 

Being assigned to the bombing investigation feels like a blessing and a curse. Anakin’s eyes felt like weights on her neck when they accepted the task. She knows it’s because he wants to watch how she’ll blow them all away this time, because he’s always the most excited to see her succeed, but it feels like she’s on the business end of a microscope. It doesn’t help that she’s all too aware of the Council eying her every move, waiting for her to slip up the way they think her master has taught her to.

It’s a conscious effort to prove them all wrong. Conscious and _painful_ \--which she finds out later, the first time she sees Barriss after the ceremony.

Barriss has spent most of her time in the Healing wing of the Temple lately. There’s more than enough work to busy herself with there. After taking one look at her, Ahsoka realizes she must _really_ be busy, because there are dark circles under eyes and a hollow look within her irises.

It’s unfortunate that she’s here on business, in order to discuss the traumatic events with an lucid witnesses, but she makes time to talk to Barriss because….because it’s _Barriss_ , and Ahsoka herself can give into her specific wants in controlled situations.

She doesn’t really have time to make small talk, so she cuts right to it. “How have you been, Barriss?”

Hands wrung, Barriss offers what she must think is a reassuring smile. “Well. I’ve been...well. Better, now that I’ve seen you.”

It’s a bold flirtation--they’re not under surveillance in the Healing wing, but they’re not alone either. But it makes Ahsoka laugh and relax. The world is upside down, and the Temple is still recovering from where she burned, but Barriss is still herself, and that is a constant Ahsoka hadn’t even realized she was so desperate for.

“I missed you too,” Ahsoka admits softly. “Anakin and I barely have any time to ourselves while we try to solve this case...I just...I wish none of this had to happen.” She sighs, leaning slightly into Barriss’ space. “You look worn, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many civilians in the Healing wing before. I want us to go back to the way things were.”

Barriss gives her an odd look. “Before the war?”

“Before the bombing.”

“The way things were before were just as bad. We were still surrounded by war then; now it just seems that the consequences for our actions have finally caught up to us. We aren’t soldiers, but we’ve been acting like them and now we’re paying the price.”

Ahsoka...stares at her in stunned silence. Barriss seems to come back to herself; she’d had her fists clenched and they relax, but her shoulder stay stooped as if she’s ready to work herself up again. She turns away with a sharp movement, leaving Ahsoka to stare at the dark circles that threaten to drown out the diamond tattoos on her cheeks.

Barriss doesn’t do well under stress. Pressure is certainly more of Ahsoka element than hers, but even then, she’s never cracked like this before. Not this badly.

Resolve forming, Ahsoka decides the investigation can share priority with helping her friend. Or whatever it is, exactly, that Barriss is to her.

“Don’t hide from me,” she instructs, beckoning Barriss to face her full on. “This isn’t like you.”

“We haven’t seen each other for some time. Perhaps you just don’t know what I’m like anymore,” Barriss whispers. She still won’t look at her.

Ahsoka tries not to physically flinch, but a quiet sigh escapes her. “Fine. In that case, I suppose we should take some time to reacquaint ourselves?” She very obviously let’s her gaze slide up and down Barriss’ body--an action that doesn’t go unnoticed, if the tiny smirk on Barriss’ face is any judge.

“You need to focus on your investigation,” she counters.

“I _need_ to be here for you. You have me, Barriss. You always have me.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Barriss says ominously, not a trace of humor in her voice, but she adds on, “We’ll meet later. For now, conduct your business as usual. I’d hate to be reprimanded by Master Skywalker...again.”

The very tips of Ahsoka’s montrals color as she’s reminded of Anakin’s elevator intervention. She pouts at Barriss, trying to entertain her subtle joke without giving away her lingering embarrassment over the encounter. Barriss smiles slyly, a tiny thing that barely moves her lips but it makes Ahsoka’s toes tingle anyway.

“You and I _will_ catch up soon,” is all Ahsoka says, even as Barriss turns her back to her to attend to other duties. “That’s a promise, and you know we Jedi keep our word.”

Barriss hesitates briefly, then spares a look over her shoulder--”I will hold you to that,” she says quietly, but she sounds happy.

Ahsoka realizes she must look like an idiot, but that doesn’t stop the smile from nearly splitting her face in two.

 

+

 

Barriss has gotten exceptionally worse at pillow talk.

She was bad before, which Ahsoka teases her constantly about, but ever since she and Luminara returned from Jakku she’s been _horrible_. She’s too quiet and too stiff and too painfully introspective, until Ahsoka distracts her from her own self with her lips.

Tonight, she’s particularly terrible. Half-dressed, Ahsoka lays in a daze, watching Barriss through half-lidded eyes when Barriss looks at her sharply and asks, “Do mistakes define us?”

Ahsoka blinks. “Excuse me?” It comes out more bitter than she intended; always too defensive, too quick to jump to conclusions, but the mere idea that Barriss might label what transpired between them a mistake leaves her shaken to her core.

“Never mind,” Barriss mumbles, avoiding Ahsoka’s eye.

“No, Barriss-- _look_ at me--what do you mean by mistakes?”

Barriss does look at her then, her eyes wide in sudden horror. “Not _you_!” She falls forward in a less-than-graceful scramble and lands with both hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders. “Not you,” she says again, and her voice trembles.

“Barriss…”

“You aren’t a mistake, Ahsoka,” she says firmly. “I don’t...fully believe what we’re doing comes without danger, but I do not regret it. I do not regret _you_.”

Ahsoka doesn’t have anything to say for a moment--she’s too busy watching Barriss; her eyes, her body, her hands, her lips. She blinks rapidly, forcing herself concentrate on something besides how _beautiful_ Barriss is saying these things to her, no matter how frantic.

“I could never regret you,” Ahsoka says plainly.

Barriss intakes sharply and they hold each other's’ gaze, anticipation building between them.

Surprisingly, Barriss moves first; pressing herself up against Ahsoka with sudden aggression she doesn’t usually display, and Ahsoka barely has a moment to catch her before they both crash into her bed again. The conversation dies away because Barriss’ mouth is too busy sucking on Ahsoka’s skin, and Ahsoka is far too busy enjoying herself to bring it up again.

 

+

 

Anakin infuriates her from time to time, but during the investigation she has to cut him some slack.

He looks wrecked, for one. She’s never known him to get enough sleep on the best of days, but lately it’s been worse than usual. The investigation is obviously weighing on him, but she doesn’t know how to help. Obi-Wan’s judgement likely won’t let him interfere; he’s always been too proper for that, and he especially won’t try anything when the Councilmembers have been explicitly told to stay out of it.

Asking Padme would probably introduce more problems than solve them. Ahsoka stille toys with the idea though, if it makes Anakin act more sane.

His paranoia has even spread to Rex, who gets antsy whenever he and Anakin are in the same for more than five minutes.

“What is going on with you two?” Ahsoka asks after cornering Rex. He has his helmet tucked under his arm, but looks like he wants to put it back on as soon as possible. “Why are you and Anakin so anxious?”

“The general suspects something wrong in the Force,” is all Rex will tell her. He can be stubbornly tight-lipped when he wants to.

Ahsoka prods him a while longer, but Rex is adamant about keeping his mouth shut. Eventually, she gives up, to which Rex expresses his gratefulness in the most sarcastic way he can think of.

“Very funny, old man,” she mumbles.

“You’ve definitely given me some grays.”

Ahsoka grins at him. “Not as many as Anakin has, though.”

Rex just scoffs in that resigned way of his, and for a second Ahsoka can laugh like nothing’s wrong.

But then the investigation looming over her shoulder comes to her mind again, and she winces at the thought. “The suspect--Leta--requested me to visit her, as I’m sure you’re aware. Escort me to the prison sector?”

“I’d love to,” Rex says when he doesn’t mean it, which earns him a sour look, “but there’s a handful of shinies I have to train today. Which I have Cody to thank for.”

“Rex, how many times have I told you not to make bets with Cody? The man’s got a poker face made of stone. At least _you_ smile sometimes.”

Rex snorts and graces her with one of those rare smiles. “Fives’ll escort you whenever you’re ready. But before you go, Padawan Offee was looking for you.”

He gives her a pointed look--he’s _Rex_ , of course he knows. Half the Temple knows anyway, but Ahsoka at least made the effort to tell Rex personally.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

-

Barriss jumps in surprise when Ahsoka finds her. “Oh! It’s just you,” she gasps.

“‘Just’ me?” Ahsoka questions, lips twitching upward.

Barriss’ cheeks color but she doesn’t flirt back; instead leans forward and says in a low voice, “We need to speak. Alone.”

“I have to go the prison sector soon. The suspect refuses to talk to anyone besides me.”

Barriss’ breath hitches, just barely, if Ahsoka wasn’t so attuned to listening to her breathing she never would’ve noticed. “I will be quick.” WIthout waiting for an answer, she yanks on Ahsoka’s wrists and whisks them away to a secluded hallway devoid of any passersby.

“Are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Barriss says immediately. “Ahsoka, do you remember what I asked you the other day?”

 _While we were in bed,_ she doesn’t say, but Ahsoka gets thrown back into the memory anyway. She nods slightly, montrals coloring. “I’m afraid I don’t. Maybe you should remind me?”

“ _Ahsoka_.”

The urgency in Barriss voice sobers her quickly. “Ahsoka, this is important. Do you remember when I asked you if mistakes define us?”

“Yes. I said I will never regret you.”

“But that doesn’t answer the question.”

Ahsoka holds her gaze for a moment. Obi-Wan used to tell her, in times of great need or when one began to doubt themselves, to recite the Jedi Code until one could control themselves again. Ahsoka finds herself in the position of staring at Barriss for far too long, and feeling un-Jedi-like feelings for her, and then having her thoughts switch rapidly between “ _There is no passion, there is serenity,_ ” and “ _Prove me wrong._ ”

She swallows hard. To her, Barriss still isn’t a mistake a will never be; at the worst she’s a test, a prelude to Ahsoka’s Trials. At best, she’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to Ahsoka.

“No, I don’t think they do,” Ahsoka says. Then she finds her resolve and adds, “I know for a fact that they don’t.”

“Ahsoka--”

“No, listen to me; whatever you did, or whatever you think you did, doesn’t define you. You are Barriss Offee, not your mistakes. Not what you did, but what you _do_ and will do in the future.”

Barriss looks to be on the verge of tears. Ahsoka has no idea where this is coming from, and she doesn’t know how to fix it; all she knows is that the way her heart feels like it’s squeezing out of her chest isn’t the Jedi way. It’s not of the Dark Side, but it feels dangerously like attachment.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

“We aren’t soldiers,” Barriss says quietly. “Why are we doing this? Why are we dying like soldiers? We’re Jedi, we _shouldn’t_ be doing this.”

“That’s what Tarkin said after the funeral,” Ahsoka says. “That we’re not soldiers.”

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

“He’s _right_. We aren’t! We’re supposed to be peacekeepers, we have no business on the frontlines!”

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s far too late to contemplate our place in this war. We’re already _in it_. Our priority now is figuring out how to win.”

“What if this war is a mistake?” Barriss presses. “What if we’re forever defined by the part we played in this senseless murder and violence? I pledged my life to becoming a Jedi, not--not a war criminal.” Barriss isn’t looking at her, and in the Force Ahsoka can feel her heart pounding hard, like it might burst right out of her chest.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Ahsoka has no idea what to say. Rather, she has a million ideas of what to say but none of them are in line with the Code or proving Anakin wrong. She inhales deeply and tries to control herself. If not for her desire to prove that she is truly the Jedi she and Anakin both believe she is, she likely would’ve crumpled right then and there.

“We aren’t soldiers,” Ahsoka agrees, in as neutral a voice as she can manage. “But we have souls and we have the Force, and we use what we have to keep our promise to the Republic. So for now, we fight. We won’t always fight, but for now...we have no choice.”

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

Chaos erupts in Barriss expression, so vulnerable and open, she hardly looks like herself. She stares at Ahsoka in eerie silence, then all at once pulls herself away and breaks their gaze.

“Is that what Master Skywalker tells you?” she asks icily.

Ahsoka flinches. “Does Master Luminara tell you anything different?” she fires back, trying to keep herself from getting heated.

It’s Barriss’ turn to flinch at the mention of her master. “Isn’t half the expectation of a Knight to act apart from their Master?”

“Hardly,” Ahsoka says. _Barriss_ brought up Knighthood, not her, so her conscience can shut up about Anakin’s warnings _thank you very much._ “They expect independence, sure, but not _heresy_. Barriss, you’re scaring me. What’s gotten into you?”

Barriss bites down on her lower lip. “Some sense, I would say.” She makes as if to leave, but Ahsoka grabs onto her wrist and pulls her back and takes one last kiss--one last _something_ of Barriss, before she walks away and returns a complete stranger.

Barriss kisses her back; it’s bitter and a little desperate, but they don’t touch each other save for Ahsoka’s grip on her wrist. It’s different from their other encounters, cold in a way Ahsoka can’t name, but doesn’t like.

“I should let you get to the prison sector,” Barriss whispers, pulling away.

Ahsoka frowns. “Will you be okay? I can walk you back to your quarters first--”

Barriss shakes her head ever so slightly. “We’ll catch up after you return,” she says, shifting her weight from either foot. She tugs out of Ahsoka’s grip and says, “May the Force be with you,” but it sounds _wrong_ and hesitant.

She departs as quickly as she can, leaving Ahsoka alone, with the oddest feeling that something bad just happened between them even though she can’t figure out what it is.

 

+

 

Someone kills Leta. Someone bombed the Temple--Ahsoka doesn’t know who--but the Council blames _her_ and she knows she has to _run_ and _not stop_ until everyone else believes her innocence. The whole encounter sits in her stomach last a blaster bolt, a fresh wound unlike her scar from Mandalore.

Anakin chases her, and that’s always been a part of their dynamic. Typically, he’s the one to run and she follows, but this? This just feels like the natural progression.

She trusts Barriss. That’s the whole truth, the entire truth, and nothing but the truth. She trusts her and she loves her, and maybe this whole thing got out of hand without her noticing (or maybe she noticed and just couldn’t bring herself to stop it.) Barriss is the only Jedi she actively reaches out for, besides Anakin (and Ventress surely doesn’t count.) In the whirlwind of events, she can’t shove down her stupid, blazing attachment; it’s a damn relief to hear Barriss voice, even through the grainy reception of the Coruscanti underground.

Especially because the only voice she’s been hearing as of late is Ventress and the occasional duty-bound clone.

By the time Anakin and the clones wrestle her back to the Temple, Ahsoka’s tired and filthy and she just wants this whole thing to be _over_. The Jedi Code can’t comfort her now, not after the Council stripped her of her padawan status and made it very, very clear that the Jedi Order is no longer her home.

“I don’t know what to do, Snips,” Anakin tells her. It’s the first time they’ve been alone together since she’d run. Her holding cell is possibly the least welcoming place for a reunion, but Ahsoka’s not terribly picky at this point.

“Prove me innocent?” she offers, sounding far more optimistic than she feels.

“Obviously,” Padme says, skirts swaying as she sits beside Ahsoka. “The question is _how_.”

“The Council can’t sincerely believe _you’re_ responsible for this--”

“They can, and they do,” Ahsoka says snappishly. “Anakin, listen to me; I’m _sure_ Ventress is guilty. You have to find her and get her to confess. She _owes_ me.”

Anakin makes a face. “She owes you?”

“It’s been a long few days.”

Just as the dozens of journalists eating the story up were so happy to remind her of; Ahsoka saw her face at least a hundred times a day in the lower levels. So many reports on ‘day x of the search for the killer padawan’ or some other, equally unflattering headline.

“I’ll find her,” Anakin promises. “Padme, I know you could defend her with one hand tied behind her back, but keep it long-winded till I get back, okay?”

“Of course. I’m a politician, Ani, talking too much is half my job.”

They smile at each other, sweetly and lovingly, and Ahsoka nearly hates her damn stupid self ever thinking she could avoid attachment. Here is her _master,_ so obviously in love with Senator Amidala right in front of her eyes. He doesn’t even care to hide it. It’s a miracle of the Force that the Council didn’t end her apprenticeship earlier, what with Anakin’s apparent lack of respect for the Code.

Ahsoka _respects_ the Code; she had lived by the Code. Learning and believing in Anakin was all she was certain of, yet here she is feeling like a lost fool because she’d fought so _hard_ to shape her view of Anakin as a good master who taught her the right thing, when in reality he struggles just as much as she does and gives _in_ to his desires. Maybe he’s the one that taught her to give in as well. (She’s childish, pitting her faults on Anakin, but she’s bitter and tired and tells herself she’ll feel guilty about it later.)

Stomach twisting, she pulls Anakin aside before he departs. “Master...listen. There’s something you should know.”

Anakin knows when to keep his mouth shut sometimes. This is one of those times. He frowns, waiting on her to continue.

“I couldn’t...I couldn’t prove you wrong. Or the Council. I think they were right about me and my attachment.” She shudders through a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry,”

Anakin stares at her for a second longer, then pulls her in close the way he did on the planet Mortis and hasn’t done since. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are young and you have a soul--the way you feel isn’t unnatural or inherently wrong.”

She doesn’t stiffen in his embrace, but she doesn’t reciprocate either. Not for lack of wanting, but because she’s afraid she’ll start to cry if she gives in to this desire as well. “Anakin…”

“Overcoming attachment doesn’t mean ignoring your emotions,” Anakin says. “It simply means not allowing them to control you.”

He pulls away, hands still on her shoulders. “Obi-Wan might tell you otherwise--but that’s why he looks like he’s trying to compress coal to diamonds in his ass whenever the late Duchess comes into conversation. If you suppress this part of you, it will lead only to Darkness and chaos. But if you embrace it and learn to control it…” He pauses, and unwittingly his eyes dart to Padme; so brief but so telling. “Good things will come of it. I promise you.”

The vice twisting Ahsoka’s insides lightens. She hugs Anakin tight around the middle and exhales into the front of his robes while reminding herself to never doubt her master ever again.

He’s not a perfect Jedi, but he’s a good man and a great mentor--and Ahsoka can strive to emulate that, at least.

Padme clears her throat. “You really should get going, Ani. I can take care of Ahsoka for now.”

The mentor and padawan step away from each other, and Ahsoka has to pretend that there are no tears welling in her eyes. “May the Force be with you,” she tells him, and he winks at her before taking his leave.

 

+

 

Padme had said that the Council wouldn’t let any punishment on her be too extreme, had said it with all the confidence in the world, yet Palpatine himself had looked down at her in the court with the intent of sentencing her to death.

The courtroom is huge and spacey--every sound echoes off the walls and bounces right back at her. It’s disorienting. She’s alone on her platform, and she wonders if anyone would be able to catch her if she fell.

She snorts at the thought. _Maybe the fall would kill me. Tarkin would be happy, at least._

It’s so easy for him to thirst for her death; Ahsoka can’t return the favor because she is--or at least, _was_ \--a Jedi, and Jedi don’t seek revenge. But the thought of running Tarkin through with her lightsaber gives her a small satisfaction that at least makes the fixed fate of the trial less harrowing.

 _Fixed fate_. It’s true--this, much like when she stood before the High Council, is a formality. Everyone in the courtroom knows exactly what is going to happen; they all know Ahsoka Tano is not going to leave this room as a free person. She may have some time before her execution, but she’ll be dead by the end of the week, and they all know it.

Obi-Wan and the rest of the Council sit high up in the rafters, silent and watching. More than once, Ahsoka has tried to catch Obi-Wan’s eye. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if he looks at her--plead for her life? She did that already, and Obi-Wan couldn’t do anything for her then either, much less now. Maybe there’s comfort in seeing a face she’s grown to love in her greatest time of need. But, since she knows Obi-Wan’s hands are tied, maybe she’s just a glutton for punishment.

Tarkin’s last words reverberate throughout the courtroom. She’s glad he’s finished; another second of hearing his voice echo throughout her head would’ve driven her mad. But now, all she can do is wait for Palpatine’s verdict.

Ahsoka doesn’t have a penchant for precognition--at least, she doesn’t think she does--but even without it, she knows the Chancellor is merely being polite by lingering. Her death sentence isn’t a possibility anymore; it’s inevitable.

She’s going to die.

 _I’m a Jedi_ , Ahsoka thinks. _I don’t fear death._

Palpatine receives the verdict, and rises to his feet slowly. He looks down at her, and even though he’s at least thirty feet away, Ahsoka feels the chill of his gaze crawl across her skin.

“Ahsoka Tano,” he says, and she swears he’s smiling, like he alone is privy to the best joke imaginable.

 _We are luminous beings. We do not fear death._ I _do not fear death._

“By an _overwhelming_ vote of--”

Ahsoka feels something sharp in the Force. She doesn’t flinch away from it; in fact, had she not been bound and isolated on her platform, she might’ve run up and flung herself at the newest arrival.

As it is, all she does is reach out for Anakin in the Force, and nearly goes weak in the knees when she feels his relief.

She’s going to live.

For a single, sweet moment, everything is fine. Anakin doesn’t smile at her, but he would’ve if he could, and Padme _is_ smiling at her, and Tarkin looks like he’s seen a ghost, and everything is right with the world until Anakin’s words reach her ears:

“The _real_ bomber, Barriss Offee--member of the Jedi Order...and _traitor_.”

Ahsoka feels sick to her fucking stomach. She whips around to face Anakin and the person bound in cuffs beside him. “Is that true, Barriss?” She’s too loud and her voice cracks, but--she can’t _help_ it, not when the unimaginable is staring her in the face.

“Yes,” says Barriss, or whoever it is that now lives in Barriss’ skin. “It’s true.”

That’s _Barriss_ , her friend, her confidant, her _lover_ confessing to murder and sedition and all kinds of heresy. Barriss who would rather swallow her own lightsaber than kill innocents, who spoke of peace and a time without war--that’s _Barriss_. Asking if she was defined by mistakes, pretending that _Ahsoka_ was what her strongest emotions were tethered to, when in reality it was her hatred for the war and the Jedi themselves.

They were going to _knight_ her _._ Ahsoka’s head is spinning; she can’t fathom this, it’s too much all at once. She’d been in love and they were going to fucking knight her, and Barriss responded by blowing up innocent people in the only sacred space the Jedi had left.

In the courtroom, the air shifts. Barriss raises her chin, and it’s like a broadcast within in the Force; she’s not of the Light anymore. She’s not - not Sith, but she’s no Jedi, and she says as much with her own voice.

Ahsoka can’t quite put into her words how physical it feels when Barriss admits to framing her. It feels like getting shot on Mandalore, or Onderon; like getting pulled apart from the inside; like her heart is melting right out of her chest. Is this heartbreak? Is this attachment? Is this the consequence she pays for harboring a soul?

She doesn’t know any of the answers and she doesn’t _care_. This feels like dying, and perhaps she’d been ready to accept death before, but she hadn’t known it would hurt this much. She closes her eyes, as if that’ll hide the truth.

It doesn’t.

 

+

 

Ahsoka loves, in no particular order: her master, Anakin Skywalker, even on his worst days; her grandmaster, Obi-Wan Kenobi, even when he’s especially pretentious; the neverending bustle of the Coruscant inner city, Padme Anidala and her warm voice and hugs--and one Barriss Offee, former Jedi Padawan and Knight-to-be.

Love is stupid, because it makes all the toughest decisions in life even harder than they have to be.

Leaving Anakin would’ve been hard enough, but she loves him and breaking his heart hurts her as well. Something shatters within her as she declines her reinstitution into the Order, his padawan once again. She knows she can’t, because she’s broken now like she wasn’t before. She can’t control any part of herself, least of all her emotions.

“Ahsoka, you’re making a _mistake--_ ”

“ _Staying_ would be a mistake,” she insists, not angry that he’s followed her all the way to the Temple steps. “Anakin, you...I can’t explain this to you. But I can’t trust the Council, nor myself. And I can’t stay.”

“But you can trust me!”

He’s begging, _pleading_ for her to stay, and maybe if she were stronger she would. But she can’t. She loves too much and she hurts too much and no Jedi training can fix the state her heart is in.

“I know I can. Thank you, for that at least. You mean more to me than I could ever say,” she says as sincerely as possible.

Anakin looks wrecked, looks _shattered_. “Ahsoka, _please_ , we can figure this out together. I promise I won’t let anything hurt you, not like this, not again.”

She pauses. “You can’t give me that. I can’t ask you to give me that.”

“I offered.”

“Well I decline.”

He huffs, “ _Ahsoka_ \--”

“I need to figure this out on my own,” she says, voice final. “Without the Council and without _you_. It’s time for you to trust me now,” and she does her best to smile at him, but it really just moves them both closer to tears.

“I understand wanting to leave,” he tries again, voice breaking, “more than you know, I _understand_ \--”

“I know you do.” She pauses, searching for the words while avoiding Anakin’s eyes--if he’s feeling a fraction of how she feels, one look at him will surely move her to tears. “I think this is our curse, and I don’t know the way to lift it, but you’re taking one path, and I’m taking another.”

Anakin’s tone drops into something soft. “Loving isn’t a _curse_ , Ahsoka.”

“It sure feels like one.”

It’s as close as she’ll ever come to saying she’d loved Barriss outright, but Anakin understands.

He stares at her a long while, frozen in time like he can’t believe this is happening but he can’t do anything to stop it either. “I can’t leave,” he tells her, a lost look clouding over his features.

“I know,” she says, and that _hurts_. Thinking of a life without Anakin hurts as much as a life without Barriss, if not more. “That’s why I didn’t ask you to.”

Anakin shifts on his feet. “After the war,” he blurts out. “I keep telling Padme, after the war. Once this all blows over, that’s when I can step away. But not yet.”

“I know, Anakin.”

She’s kept her eyes away from his eyes, as if avoiding his eyes will help her avoid the gravity of this situation. When she catches his gaze, he’s staring at her with a sliver of hope still alive in his eyes. Fuck, she looked, and now she can feel the pre-crying burn starting in her throat.

Her voice rasps terrifically when she says, “We’ll see each other again.”

Because she can’t say _goodbye_. She’s not strong enough for that, not yet.

He nods once, slowly, and she hums her satisfaction. Once she sets off again, he doesn’t follow. Her hips feel bare without the comforting weight of her lightsabers, and there’s something extremely terrifying about walking away from everything she’d ever known, but Force gods, she feels _free_.

She rubs away the tears the run down her cheeks as she descends the Temple steps. This is the first time she says it to herself; not out loud, not yet, but in her thoughts.

 _I am no Jedi_.

**Author's Note:**

> i have about 5 chapters of this planned out, BUT that literally means nothing and this could wind up being a total monster of a fic  
> i'm sure i'll finish it (eventually)


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